The Light In Your Dark Eyes
by stormcin
Summary: Everything's changed. Sam struggles to save Dean. Castiel's stolen grace threatens to destroy him. Dean has never felt better. But when desperation leads to playing with Hellfire, something more dangerous than all of them combined is set into motion. Set after S9. Demon!Dean. Knight of Hell. Resurrection fic.


I don't own the rights to this except for my own ideas.

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Chapter One

_The Beginning Of The End_

Sam stepped away as the flame caught on the macabre contents of the bowl. The stench of scorched blood filled his nose.

Thick red lines painted the floor; the devil's trap effectively kept Crowley from materializing elsewhere in the room. The demon crossed his arms, scowling as his eyes flicked around the lines of the trap, then around the room. Not seeming to find what he was looking for, he turned his attention to Sam. "Moose."

"Crowley." Sam got the word out through gritted teeth. Already his fingers itched to slaughter the beast before him, but he held himself back. Crowley was the only chance he had.

Again the demon scanned the empty space around Sam. "No Squirrel? It really just isn't the same without Squirrel."

Squaring his shoulders. Sam took a deep breath. "Dean is dead."

"You boy's just can't stay living, can you?" Crowley settled back on his heels, his voice dry. "Tell me, is there a reason for this little social visit, or is it just a chat and a smoke you're looking for?"

Fingers turning to fists, Sam stepped closer. "I want you to bring him back." He could taste the remnants of the smoke from the incantation, the bitterness of his burnt blood. "You're the King of Hell, you can bring him back."

Crowley tilted his head. "Your call me here to do you dirty work, and you don't even offer me a drink. Even our old friend Bobby offered me a margarita." A small smirk. "Even if I had to mix the ingredients myself."

"I want to make a deal." He nearly choked on the words. Only the thought of Dean pushed him on. The thought of Dean's unseeing eyes, the chill of death settling on his skin. And the words he had said, for months and months. The words he had spoken that had put that shattered look on Dean's face right before the mask of alcoholism and masculinity had been recovered. _I wouldn't come for you. I didn't look for you. _

_I don't care about you._

Crowley's eyes glinted with a dangerous light. "That's you boys to T, isn't it? Always playing the white knight, sacrificing your lives without a thought." He squinted at Sam.

Sam held back a shudder. It felt like Crowley was only moments away from flicking through his mind like they were files at his leisure.

"I thought you gave up on that dirty little fantasy world?"

Swallowing hard, Sam pushed on. "What's it matter to you? You bring him back, you get my soul."

Crowley's intensiveness faded away as his arms uncrossed to slip his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You are such a pretty beggar, Moose." He sighed, his mouth pulling to one side in the inverse of a smile as he considered him. "A shame that I'm a man of my word."

A thread of cold worked its way through Sam's numbness, burning its way through his veins till it threatened to freeze him solid. "What are you talking about?"

Blowing out a breath, the demon shrugged. "Free me from this ridiculous trap and we'll see what I can do."

Though every instinct screamed for him to gank Crowley while he was at his mercy, Sam knelt. His fingers shook with murderous desire as he scraped away at the red paint of the devil's trap. The knife stilled as he thought of plunging it into Crowley. Revenge for every time the demon had wronged them. No. He was doing this for Dean. He had to remember that. The trap destroyed, he rose.

With a smirk in his direction, Crowley stepped out of the trap and headed promptly towards where Sam had left his liquor. Half-turned away from him, Crowley poured the remains of the whiskey into Sam's empty cup. "Your hospitality is lacking, Moose."

"Just bring him back."

Draining the contents of the glass, Crowley nodded. "Yes, of course. The waltz of codependency continues." He shrugged, before casting an eye on the collection of empty bottles. Finding nothing more, his eyes flicked back to Sam. Once again, Sam felt that Crowley was only a moment away from destroying him. "You want me to bring him back, but this time, there's nothing to bring back, is there?"

Sam's lips parted in uncertainty, a thousand questions rising to the surface of his mind before being swept away in the current.

"Come now, Moose, I thought you better than this. Your fleeting dance has ended. That denim-clad disaster's light has been snuffed out." He grinned at him. "There's nothing for me to bring back. Dean's howling at the moon now, as it were." With a blink, the dark brown of Crowley's eyes disappeared, replaced with a black-tinged red. His grin grew sharper, the predator that he was bleeding out in it.

Without a sound, Crowley disappeared, leaving nothing but an empty whiskey bottle, empty air, and a fear that threatened to consume Sam.

Sam bolted from the room, and slammed into Dean's room. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he took in the room before him. Staggering back, he caught the door frame with one hand and collapsed back against it. "No, no..."

The bed was empty. The sheets were mussed where he had laid Dean, but other than that, there was no sign that his brother had ever been in the room. "No..."

His mind fought to be rational. Dean was dead. There had been no pulse, no warmth. He had been dead, of that, Sam had no doubt. He had been willing to sell his own soul for it, he had been so convinced. The dead didn't just walk away. At least, not without a good reason. No one else knew that Dean was dead. There wouldn't have been time for the spells and deals required to raise him. The bunker was covered in angel repelling sigils, so Metatron couldn't have taken him.

Steeling himself, Sam pushed himself up. Crowley. Crowley had known that there was no use in bringing Dean back, because he wasn't truly gone. He stepped out of the room, dragging in breath. "Dean?" He shouted, knowing there would be no answer. Only the echo of his voice returned to him, bouncing around the empty hallway.

Crowley had answers, and he would get them from him this time. "Dammit, Crowley." Sam growled. "What the hell did you do?"

There was an answer, somewhere. And he had to find it.


End file.
